Page 65 of Off the Rails

Its icing was perfectly set — all that was left to do was place the dollops of whipped cream and little strawberry florets, and then light the candles. Nash moved with expert precision, her strong hands steady with each delicate motion.

From the concrete, Butch watched closely, desperately hoping for a stray glob of whipped cream. But given Nash’s deft hands, I doubted he would be so lucky.

“Damn,” I murmured, distracted despite myself. “You really are an artist, huh?”

“I try,” Nash shrugged. “We’ve got a lot of time and space for hobbies here. Have you ever seen Blade’s?”

This was something she did a lot — try to lure me off the scent of her path with juicy morsels of the present. And I almost fell for it.

But before I could push for more information on her past, the door swung open and the lights fell.

Blade’s voice rang out from the doorway. “Birthday boy is in the building! I repeat, birthday boy is in the building.”

Even in the dark, I could hear the scowl in Cyrus’ voice. “‘Birthday boy’ is not as discreet a code name as you think it is, Blade.”

“Nonsense.” Blade murmured, covering Cyrus’ eyes as they stumbled clumsily through the door. “You’ve got no idea what’s about to hit you.”

Nash made quick work of lighting the candles and placing the cake in my hands. Just when I thought Cyrus’ frown couldn’t grow any deeper, Blade lifted her hands from over her eyes, unveiling me with the cake.

Fucking asshole.

But before she could wedge in some nasty comment, Blade and Nash shouted out in unison. “Happy Birthday!”

Cyrus glowered. “I’ve told you a million times not to celebrate my birthday.”

I wanted to smash the cake right in her face — how dare she be so rude when Nash had put in so much work? But Nash just smiled, completely unbothered by the birthday brat.

Blade was practically vibrating with excitement. “Come on and make your wish, or else I’m gonna start singing.”

Clearly, Cyrus was over Blade’s taunting. But as she caught my gaze, a glint of something wicked flashed behind her midnight eyes. Cyrus blew out the candles, sending a small gust of smoke straight into my face before growling, “Let’s get this over with. I’m ready for Fright Night.”

37

TESS

Cyrus had practically shoved me out the front door. I’d barely been able to get my shoe on the correct foot before she was slamming the apartment door closed and slipping her stitched-up clown mask over her face.

With each step, I watched her shoulders tighten and her broad back grow tense.

There was a hunger in her that I hadn’t seen before, like I was a trapped mouse in a lion’s paw. She could eat me whole, or bat me around until she got bored with watching me suffer.

I felt my chest strain to pull in fresh air, anxiety washing over me.

But Blade pressed her hand flat into my back as she guided me out of Canopy Eatery and into Feverpoint’s jungle. “Don’t worry, Trinket. I’ll find you first.”

I knew under her blood splattered mask that she wore a sinister smile. One that would send a shiver down my spine and a jolt of excitement to my center.

Cyrus already had her machete out, the blade dangling toward the ground as she shook out her shoulders.

Why did she need it?

Maybe she was going to kill me tonight. Finally getting to do as she wished with me.

Maybe that’s what she wanted all along, to watch the life seep from my eyes. That just might be the only thrill someone like Cyrus sought out.

Next to her, Nash rolled her head and stretched her neck.

“Start the count.” Cyrus barked at Blade.